


Wait a sec... Don't I die in plan M?

by Kc749



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-26
Updated: 2014-04-26
Packaged: 2018-01-20 21:17:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1526114
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kc749/pseuds/Kc749
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set post "Root Path", Root needs Shaw's help for a mission, and in the midst of it a discussion occurs about what the solutions might be to their current issue with Decima and Samaritan. Oh and a kiss, you know, for the greater good and all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wait a sec... Don't I die in plan M?

When she enters the club, Shaw winces slightly at the volume of the music. She doesn’t know what she’s even doing here, since Root didn’t share the information. All the text that Shaw had received had contained was the name of the club, suggested “attire” (which she’d promptly ignored) and that she needed to come alone.

Two steps inside the bar, Shaw realises why Root hadn’t invited the guys. Everyone, even the staff in the place, were women. It didn’t take much more observation to see that it catered to a very specific clientele. There were women dancing in pairs (if it could be considered dancing, that is, since it was mostly sex standing up.) The place was by no means a dive bar either; there were several rooms branching off the main floor, most visible through decorative mesh strung with lights. A balcony overlooked the dance floor and live band.

Shaw is getting looks, which at first she thought were the standard “what the hell” kind she usually got from almost everyone. At second glance, she realises a lot of the looks are appreciation. Thankfully she doesn’t have to worry about fending off any unwanted suitors, however, as she spots Root sitting on a bar stool away from the main crowd, ostensibly watching a baseball game.

As she approaches, another woman walks up to Root. Shaw starts constructing a scenario to extract the other woman before she gets close enough to hear their conversation, then comes to a belated understanding as Root politely but firmly declines whatever offer the woman had made. As soon as she’s gone Shaw taps Root on the shoulder.

She has yet to be able to sneak up on the other woman, like she’s taken to doing with Harold. The Machine warns Root ahead of time whenever it can, and Shaw has come to realise that whenever the Machine couldn’t access the perimeter cameras around her, Root was always in a position to see others coming. This time was no different.

“Your team is losing,” Root says in greeting, waving at the monitor.

“Yeah, story of their lives lately. And they aren’t “my” team, anyway,” Shaw answers. “So what do you need?”

Root flags down the bartender and orders Shaw a beer before she turns and looks at her. Shaw doesn’t mind, because hey, baseball. Wait, focus. “Not sure drinking’s a good idea when I’m around you Root. Likelihood of getting killed goes way up in your company.” Shaw says it without anger or scorn. She isn’t trying to piss the other woman off, just stating a fact.

Root slides the beer bottle closer. “Camouflage, Sameen. I know it isn’t your preferred way of doing things, but for today we need to at least appear to fit in.”

As she says it, a woman approaches from the left, pretty if not for the too dark makeup and the excessive piercings. She slides onto the stool next to Root, smiles, and offers “Buy you a drink?”

Shaw rolls her eyes and is about to make a scathing comment when Root’s hand creeps onto her thigh, just above her knee, squeezing slightly to warn her not to make a scene. “Sorry,” she replies easily, resting an arm around Shaw’s shoulders lightly. “Already spoken for.”

Shaw restrains her urge to break Root’s arm and attempts a smile. The woman shrugs slightly and makes a comment about it being just her luck, and then she’s gone. Root turns to Shaw.

“If you can’t do this… I should have asked first.” Root looks troubled. “I assumed you’d be used to playing all kinds of roles due to your former job.”

Shaw interrupts her. “Hey, I can do whatever the hell I need to. But you haven’t even told me why we’re here.” She picks up the bottle of beer and takes a swig, caution be damned.

Root sighs, stands with her own beer and indicates for Shaw to follow. They thread their way through the bar and up onto the balcony. It’s filled with smaller seating areas, most with leather couches and chairs. The lights are dimmer up here, but they’re bright enough for Shaw to make out couples in some pretty intimate positions, though all of them are clothed. Root leads her back away from the front of the balcony, out of sight of the dance floor below, and sets her beer on a small coffee table in front of two leather chairs. There are several open ‘windows’ up here that look down on parts of the club that are otherwise cut off. Shaw looks into the closest one and then raises her eyebrows. Okay, she didn’t realise it was that kind of club too. Explains a lot of the black leather she’d seen below though.

“Take this, put it in your ear,” Root says, holding out an ear bud. Shaw does so. She expects Root’s voice, so when the Machine starts talking, she recoils a bit from that side. Root rests a hand on her shoulder, almost like she’s trying to calm a skittish animal. Shaw shrugs her off, listening as she moves to one of the windows and looks down. Inside are simply two people sitting across a table from one another. One of them is Control.

Shaw backs up fast, retreating to the chairs where Root waits. “What the Hell!” she hisses, her brain now firmly on exit strategies. Her last meeting with that woman almost got her killed, and while she’d be happy to turn the tables, she’s not about to do it in a building full of civilians with nothing but a frigging hand gun. Even her aim isn’t that good.

“She’s very secretive, but she made a mistake. People always do, sooner or later. I tried to tell Harold, my best skill is finding flaws in things. Machines, people, it makes no difference.” Root rests a hand lightly over the still healing wound behind her right ear. “I underestimated her once. I’m not about to do it again.”

“What mistake?”

Root pulls up an image on her phone and hands it to Shaw. The image quality is crap, but it’s enough for Shaw to make out Control speaking with a woman she’s seen footage of working with Peter Collier.

“Shit,” Shaw swears, taking care to keep her tone low. “She’s working with Vigilance? We are so fucked.”

Root shakes her head as she retrieves her phone from Shaw. “Of course she isn’t.” She pauses. “She’s working with Decima. With Greer.”

This time Shaw doesn’t take care to keep her voice low, and the startled “What!” that escapes draws some glances from the other occupants of the balcony. Shaw really couldn’t care less.

“Keep your voice down. I can’t be sure there isn’t anyone here listening. And Decima would be happy to buy information about us, about Her.” The pronoun is clearly capitalised when Root says it. “The woman across from her is one of Greer’s higher ups. She’s also a trained killer and overall, about as nice a person as Control. She’s infiltrated Collier’s group, spies on them and reports back to Decima.”

“Why are we here, Root? I want a straight answer.”

Root fidgets a bit with her beer bottle. “We’re here to keep Vigilance from killing Control.”

Okay, Shaw’s had enough of these surprise answers. She takes the bottle away from Root and forces the other woman to face her. “Look, you say Vigilance is coming to assassinate Control? Good fucking riddance. Maybe Decima and Vigilance will get together and destroy each other for us, and then I can stop staying up for thirty hours at a time trying to keep people safe from their idiocy.”

“And when one of them gets hold of a nuclear weapon? Or something worse, like one of the many substances, chemical or biological, that the government has in their possession? Did you ever read the book The Stand, Sameen?”

Shaw has hold of Root by the wrist, though she doesn’t remember doing it. “My name is Shaw, dammit. You want people to call you by the name you chose, you can damn well show the same respect. And those weapons are protected.”

Root isn’t fazed by the grip on her arm, though it has to be hurting her. Shaw’s got extremely strong hands. “I had access to them. I still could, with about a month of work. How safe do you feel now, Shaw?” There’s an emotion in Root’s eyes, one Shaw can’t name but knows has to do with the absolute knowledge that yes, you are crazy. Not completely, not irrationally. But crazy enough to do something drastic and damaging. The kind of crazy required to strap a bomb to your chest and blow up strangers for what you believe.

Root continues. “But dangerous as those weapons are, they’re nothing next to what it will be like if Samaritan comes online. Imagine having an ability to assess every person on this planet, total up their worth, and then kill off anyone you don’t need. People on this Earth have at least some free will. If Decima succeeds, they won’t have any.”

“Then I don’t get it. Why keep Control safe?”

There’s a slight hesitation, and then Root sighs. “Because if we fail, I’d rather see her in a position of power than Greer.”

Shaw huffs a laugh. “Yeah, she’s much better. Rips out bones in people’s ears for kicks, but hey, other than that she’s wonderful.”

“She kills people because she needs to. Greer kills them because he wants to. There’s a difference, a big one. And she’s a patriot, a genuine one. She believes in America, in its constitution. Under her rule, people might have some choices.”

“She seemed to be enjoying herself just fine when she ordered them to shoot me,” Shaw argues.

“She thinks you’re a traitor.” Shaw begins to bristle at the fact and Root sighs slightly in exasperation. “I didn’t say I believed it, I said she does.”

“So she’s plan B? Great.” Shaw chugs the rest of her beer and pushes away the bottle.

“We’re plan B, Shaw. You, me, Reese, Fusco. Even Bear,” she says with a slightly fond smile. Another heart stricken with affection for their four legged friend. If she tries to steal him Shaw’s gonna break both her legs.

“So plan A is…”

“Harold.” Root shrugs slightly. “He always has been. He could stop this.”

“What the hell are you talking about? I’m pretty sure if Harold could have stopped this he’d have done it by now.”

“I can think of at least two ways he could stop this right now. He could change the coding in his own Machine, help her protect herself instead of her having to get me to do it. I’m human. I need food, sleep, occasional days off. She doesn’t. She could beat Decima to every turn, if she had the choice. But Harold’s an Asimov fan.” She sees the look on Shaw’s face, the one that asks what that has to do with anything, and grins. “You really should read more, Samee-… Shaw, I mean. Sorry.” Wonders never cease, she does look apologetic.

“Asimov wrote books about robots. The person who built them added three laws to their programming, to make them safe. Harold’s coding is similar, meant to protect everyone. But that means it tries to protect people like Greer and Collier, who will eventually attempt to destroy it. It protected your acquaintance, Hersh, when he tried and failed to kill me. I had the gun pointed at his head and She made me stop.”

“Hersh is a good soldier. Sometimes I wish he was on our side. Try not to kill him if you can help it.”

“He did shoot me, you know.” Root looks at her as if she’s a bit offended, and maybe she’s completely forgotten that Shaw shot her too.

“Meh, he killed me once. Long story,” Shaw says when she sees the wrinkle in Root’s brow.

“Now I like him even less,” Root mutters. Her eyes widen as she realises that that last was a little blunter than she’d intended.

Shaw stares at her, one eyebrow raised. Root actually blushes a bit. But then her eyes widen further as the machine starts talking, and Shaw is getting warnings too, and before she can react Root is suddenly straddling her lap, tugging out Shaw’s hair tie (ow) and hiding her face against Shaw’s shoulder. With Root in her leather jacket and the position they’re now in, they resemble any other couple on the balcony. This is necessary, since Control just walked up the stairs with her new friend.

“Fuck,” Shaw whispers. “You’re gonna get us killed.”

Root’s hand reaches up and wraps around Shaw’s hair right at the base of her skull and grips, hard. It’s as clear of a non-verbal ‘shut up’ as Shaw has ever gotten. “Vocal recognition software on subject,” the Machine says in Shaw’s ear. Oops. She ducks her head and nudges Root a bit, an apology. Root’s grip relaxes.

Control and the other woman enter one of the side balconies, behind a beaded curtain but still visible from Shaw’s position. They don’t look like they’re leaving any time soon. Shaw keeps one hand on the gun at her belt, and the other on Root’s lower back.

Seconds tick past, and then minutes. Root shifts occasionally, probably trying to keep the blood flow to her lower legs in case they need to run. The fact that she’s taller than Shaw is also likely causing her some back discomfort since she has to slouch to keep her face hidden.

One of the speakers nearby suddenly sends out a feedback wave, and Shaw has to work extremely hard not to flinch as the feedback runs straight to her ear via her ear bud. She has a split second to react, feels Root tense and knows she’s going to make some sort of noise, enough to give them away. She does the only thing she can under the circumstances. She kisses her.

Shaw can feel the other woman’s entire body go hard as rock as she struggles not to cry out at the pain running through her head. The tension fades and suddenly she’s kissing Shaw like its air and she’s drowning. Both hands are in Shaw’s hair now, not gripping as tightly, just trying to keep her from breaking off the kiss. It’s a bit pointless really, because short of Control walking over and tapping them on the shoulder Shaw isn’t going anywhere.

Root tastes like the beer they’ve both been drinking, but she also tastes like something else, some kind of exotic fruit Shaw has never even tried but is now hopelessly addicted to. Her mouth is warm and wet and Shaw can’t remember the last time she was kissed this way. Root’s taking her time, not attempting to force the kiss deeper but somehow she’s managed to convey quite well that she’d have no problems if Shaw did so. The offer is all she needs, and she licks her way inside Root’s mouth, that taste of fruit growing stronger. Root meets Shaw’s tongue with her own, still with that patience, like she’s making sure Shaw knows this is her decision.

Reluctantly Shaw breaks the kiss, needing to breathe and kicking herself for losing focus. She assesses Control’s position and finds her still in the same spot. It’s hard to think with Root panting quietly beside her ear, her hot breath making goose bumps grow on Shaw’s skin. The other woman tries to raise her head back up to kiss her again, but Shaw raises one hand and rests it on the back of her head, gentle but firm, to stop her. They can’t do this right now. Besides, she doesn’t do relationships, Shaw reminds herself firmly.

The complexion of the situation changes abruptly as the sound of gunfire erupts, spraying the balcony where Control and her companion are standing. They both drop, but though Control is backing away, the other woman won’t do so ever again. The people in the balcony are yelling, cowering away from the violence. More bullets hit, and now Shaw knows there are at least two shooters, because that was from a completely different spot. Control is crouched behind a chair, gun in hand and apparently considering a move toward the stairs.

“You’ll die,” Root says, staying low and joining the other woman. Control jumps and goes to bring the gun in her hand around onto the hacker. Shaw stops her, wrenching it from her grasp.

“You want to live? You do as you’re told,” Shaw hisses. “And the second I see you trying to hurt either of us, I’ll kill you without a backward glance. My friend here doesn’t really want that, but as you might have noticed, I’m not always the best at following orders. She also never mentioned anything about wounding you.”

“We need to move,” Root says. “There’s a service stairwell to the roof.” She turns slightly, then turns back with that smile that usually makes Shaw want to punch her out, the one that says that she is, in fact, a little bit crazy. “And she still owes me a body part. Be good and I’ll let you choose which one.”

Shaw can’t help her grin as she watches the blood drain out of Control’s face. The instant they start to move more shots ring out, and Shaw doesn’t even bother to fire back, just concentrates on following Root through the back of the balcony, past some private rooms. There’s music here, loud enough that the people in the rooms haven’t even noticed the commotion from the main club.

The hallway is empty except for a lone sentry, clearly one of Collier’s goons from the mask he’s wearing. Someone in Collier’s group of idiots should really tell them that wearing those masks just makes them easier to identify in combat, but Shaw isn’t going to be the one to tip them off. Root takes the guy out without hesitation and they push through the door.

The roof access stairwell comes out behind an air intake, convenient cover for them to assess the situation. There are four enemies up here, plus a sniper and spotter. All of them are well covered, all with military grade combat Kevlar. Their lower bodies are all hidden. Handguns are going to be almost useless except at extreme close range. Shaw takes a deep breath, knowing what that means.

Root knows too, if the look on her face is anything to go by. She makes it clear and says “Head shots.” Control is giving them both a weird look, as if wondering why it would bother either of them to kill people considering their blood soaked pasts. Control doesn’t know anything about what they’ve become, how hard they’re trying not to be just killers anymore.

“Will She help you?” Shaw asks quietly. “We’re going to need damn good accuracy, and I’d rather know for sure that they’ll go down immediately.”

Root’s eyes lose focus, and then she sighs and nods. “She will.”

“You stay here,” Shaw says to Control. The other woman looks like she’s going to protest, then changes her mind. Maybe it’s finally occurred to her that she might die here.

“I’ve got the sniper and her spotter,” Shaw says. “Can you take the other four?”

Root nods. “Easily.” After a second she adds “Or at least, quickly.”

Shaw nods. “My count then.” She moves to the other side of the air exchange and counts down with her fingers.

It’s over in less than ten seconds, six people on the roof down that will never get up again. Shaw moves back over and grabs Control, roughly shoving her towards a rusting service ladder. “I’ll cover you from here until you’re on the ground,” Shaw says, indicating the sniper rifle. “You try anything and you’ll regret it for the rest of your very short life,” she adds to Control. The other woman glares at her but has the wisdom not to respond.

The climb down the ladder is uneventful, thankfully. Shaw waits until she’s sure Root has a firm grip on her gun and an eye on Control before slinging the rifle over her shoulder and making her own way down.

“This way,” Root advises quietly and leads them through the alley to a door to the next building. The lock is no match for her lock picking abilities, and they make their way into an office building. Root weaves her way through the desks unerringly, bringing them out the other side of the building and turning away from the direction where Collier’s men are set up, standing sentry.

They walk for about ten minutes before Root finally stops and declares them safe. Shaw nods and turns around, raising a gun on Control. “So what do we do with her? You did promise me a body part,” she reminds the hacker.

Root rolls her eyes. “I’ve had enough violence for one night. Besides, if I really want to hurt her I know exactly how,” she says, eyes boring into Control’s and a grin reminiscent of a shark on her face. “Did you really think moving him would matter?”

“Do you really think I’ll let you blackmail me?” Control responds. “You’re just an insane tech head with delusions of importance. I won’t watch you make this country into your own personal battleground.”

“The battle will happen with or without me,” Root says softly, not looking at Control anymore. She shakes off whatever thoughts had distracted her. “Go. Your cover with Vigilance is blown, obviously. You can go back to Greer and hope he still has some use for you. Or you could walk away, enjoy whatever time is left of the old world before it’s gone for good. Your choice.”

Shaw watches as the woman walks away, resisting the urge to put a bullet in her knee just for the hell of it. “She won’t give up,” she says to Root after the woman is out of sight and they turn and begin walking in the opposite direction. She reluctantly leaves the sniper rifle on the hood of a police car.

“I know,” Root says. They only walk two blocks before the hacker turns and walks up the steps of an apartment building. “This is me,” she says, pulling out a key card. “At least for now.” She hesitates, as if having an internal debate about something, then says “You could come up if you wanted.”

Shaw is no fool, she can see what is being offered here. But she also knows that her desire to take the woman up on the offer is at least as much about wanting to hide from what they had to do tonight as it is about any form of genuine emotion. Tomorrow she’ll be her old self, walking away from others and their emotions no matter how much it hurts them when she does. So she says “I should go. Harold will no doubt have me up with the sun, guarding some old lady from dying over a Bridge game or some shit.”

Root is an accomplished grifter, able to hide her emotions with the best of them, but Shaw still thinks she sees a little flash of disappointment before the mask of being just friends settles firmly into place. “Okay. Thanks for helping me tonight.” She turns to swipe the key and Shaw has a furious internal debate for half a second before she reaches out and pulls the other woman in, kissing her with such intensity that Root actually loses her balance a bit.

As abruptly as the kiss began, it ends, Shaw pulling away and jogging down the steps before the hacker can form any words.

*******

Three blocks away from Root’s place Shaw finally slows down to a walk. Her mind is still debating the stupidity of walking away from a night in the bed of a very good looking woman, and her body is furiously chiming in that stupid isn’t a strong enough word. She considers a cab and then decides that maybe the exercise will help burn off the rest of the adrenaline from the fight and calm her libido enough to sleep.

She isn’t all that far from the library, and so it’s no real surprise when she sees Harold and Bear out for a walk, even if it is almost midnight. Bear immediately identifies her and Harold has to tell him to stay so the dog doesn’t yank his arm out of its socket trying to get to Shaw. She walks over, kneeling and saying hello to the dog before standing and looking at Harold.

“Bit late for a walk, isn’t it Harold?” she asks.

He shrugs. “I was just heading home. You’re out late as well.”

Shaw shrugs. “Fresh air.”

Harold gives her a look, then reaches into his pocket and pulls out his phone, showing her footage of the bar where she’d been less than an hour before. “Vigilance left shortly after your escape.” He doesn’t mention the six people on the roof that are going to be leaving feet first. “I would have asked Mr. Reese to help you but there wasn’t time.” Harold looks sincerely apologetic about that.

“We had it under control,” Shaw tells him.

“I saw,” he responds, looking away. “You and Miss Groves make a formidable team.”

He gestures, and they begin walking back the way Shaw came from. She thinks about his statement for a second and then says “I have a team.”

A small smile passes over Harold’s face at this, that she’s finally willing to admit to being one of them. After a second the smile falls away and he says “It’s possible Miss Groves may end up as part of that team.”

“Well I’ll try not to kick the crap out of her too often, but no promises,” Shaw says, trying to sound blasé.

Harold glances over. “I watched you walking her home, Miss Shaw. You can stop pretending.”

Shaw closes her eyes for a second, reminding herself that it’s bad form to hit your boss. “That’s none of your business Harold.” If he gives her the ‘office romances are a bad idea’ speech she’s not gonna be responsible for her actions.

He looks like he’s contemplating dropping the subject, but speaks anyway. “She was right when she said a battle is coming. We may not all make it.”

Shaw tilts her head, then stares harder at him. “Wait a second. You think I should have stayed with her?” The idea of the usually reticent Harold giving her relationship advice is so foreign she’s caught flat footed.

“I think opportunity only knocks so often before it gives up. And… I know what it feels like to let opportunity pass by.” Shaw assumes that he means the woman he left behind when he found out how far the people who bought the Machine from him were willing to go.

“I don’t do relationships,” Shaw starts to say, the words feeling rote after all the times she’s told people over the years, but Harold interrupts.

“I know you think that relationships aren’t a good idea, and I understand the impulse. But I think at this point she’d be just as happy to have you for one night as to not have you at all. She’s a pragmatist, Miss Shaw. She knows that she is more than likely going to die in this fight. So tell me, what bothers you more: the idea that she could accept only one night, or the idea that _you_ might not be able to?” Harold doesn’t wait for a response, simply turns and walks away.

*******

A knock sounds on the door just as Root is going by to turn off the lights in the kitchen. She’d taken a long shower, trying to wash away the memories of the roof where she’d killed four people tonight. Out of habit she grabs a pistol off a table before checking the peephole, then raises her eyebrows in surprise when she sees who it is.

“You lost?” she asks, playing cool as she opens the door.

Shaw isn’t going to let her get away with it. “If we do this, you need to understand something. I’m going to leave tomorrow, and for me, it’ll be like it never happened. If you can’t accept that then say so now and I’ll turn around and walk away.”

Root waits for her to finish her speech before giving her that ‘oh aren’t you adorable’ look and rolling her eyes. “I was offering to fuck you, not marry you Shaw.” Shaw’s eyebrows rise a bit at the language. “We aren’t all going to make it,” Root says, sounding eerily like Harold, as she steps back and gestures towards the interior of her apartment. “I’ll take what I can get.” She pulls Shaw with her over to a couch and sinks onto it.

Before they do this Shaw has a question that’s been bugging her since the club, one she needs an answer to. “What’s the second way that Harold could stop this?”

Root closes her eyes, and when she opens them again there’s a world of pain in them. “The second plan is the self-destruct button. We destroy Decima, all the information on how to build a new Machine, and I lose the only thing that ever made me want to be more than a criminal. Her.”

Shaw shakes her head. “Harold wouldn’t destroy it. Her. _It_ , dammit.”

Root smiles a bit in spite of herself at how Shaw is starting to see the Machine as alive. “He would, he will, if it comes to that. And then I’ll try to kill him, and John will kill me.” She says it without much emotion, like it’s a fact she happened across. “So as you can see, it’s pretty likely that I’ll die in plan A, B or C. So shut up and kiss me.”

Shaw obliges, but in her head she makes a promise. Root will survive, and if that means she needs to keep the Machine in existence too? She can live with that.

**Author's Note:**

> Title from "Leverage", where the mastermind of a gang of modern day Robin Hood types has a plan for every letter of the alphabet, except not everyone survives every plan. The hilarity that ensues as they realise this is epic. Seemed appropriate here.
> 
> Post Season 5 addendum: Maybe someday...


End file.
